Room Share
by alcarter
Summary: Santana, two years after graduation, is finally starting up and getting her own place in New York. Too bad she can't do it alone. QUINNTANA
1. I:The Proposal (Or, Parks and Urination)

"Hey, Q. I need a favor."

"Lovely to hear you too, Santana. I'd ask to what do I owe the pleasure, but you've already skipped the pleasantries." Quinn replied, adding an eyeroll even if it did nothing more than to further displace her on this new jogging route around the public park in New Haven. The campus got a bit boring, and she was always bumping into exes on her morning workout - a given when the run was how she met most of them.

"Oh, wait, where are you?" Santana forewent a response with the hurried question, her request being pushed back for the moment as her crisp but smooth voice buzzed from the public restrooms she'd ducked into just North of Hell's Kitchen through the waves to the fancy sports earbuds hugging Quinn's ears and plugged into the iPhone she'd had since senior year of high school. Being a junior at Yale now, she would be due a replacement in a few months (rather than in May, for her birthday, thanks to the new phone she received shortly into said senior year. Yes, it was still odd to think of how far she'd travelled both physically and mentally but only since this new phone was presented to her when she was deemed safe to be left alone for any period of time again after the accident.)

"I'm on a run, in the park." Quinn was partially lying, stopping at a tree with a park history signpost drilled into it (National Preserve issue, oh the irony) to actually focus on the conversation and not how far she may be from school with a guest lecture this evening.

"Can yousit down?" Santana asked, hesitantly, turning the empty toilet paper tube round its holder.

"Sure. What do you need?" Quinn, instead leaning back against the tree and then moving around and off the trail when a young family indicated their aggravated desire to read the sign, nodded.

"Will you marry me?" Santana bit her lip. Quinn might have done the same, if her mouth wasn't trailing the floor.

"The fresh air must be getting to me, or New York's fumes are getting to you, because it sounds like you just proposed."

"I did."

"to me." Quinn was in utter disbelief. This was her and Santana. They didn't do this. Sure, Kurt and Blaine were married - though on a break right now - and Artie was well on his way to charming Tina, again, with Sam getting serious with some Akron chick who bears a shocking resemblance to herself, Quinn still can't reconcile the idea of Santana and getting married anytime soon. Nor herself, any more, not at this age. And together? That was the strangest part.

"Yeah." Was the grand explanation Santana provided.

"Come on," Quinn laughed, "we're not old and out of options yet. We're not even prepared or old enough to really be looking for options in the first place, yet."

"Oh, Fapray, you know you're not my last choice," Santana began, Quinn adding an 'oh, really?' at the same time she finished, "Close, but still above Berry."

"Oh, gee, thanks. You sure know how to do this proposal thing. And don't call me Fap-ray!" Quinn growled, joking on both accounts, as she giggled and sunk to the ground - squatting because there's nothing that can get the stench of dog fowl out of yoga pants.

"So will you? Marry me? I kinda need you to." Santana bit her lip again, moving the phone to her other ear for something to do that wasn't kicking the questionable trash around the stall. Though she was unusually subdued, what she said had set alarm bells ringing and put Quinn on alert.

"Oh, god, what did you do now, Santa?" Quinn sighed. They'd grown into actual friends during college, though Santana could get herself into some serious stitches. 'Santa' itself was a nickname that Santana let only Quinn use - Quinn insisted on shortening her name for affection, and even if she doesn't want association with the jolly red Christmas mascot, she'd rather that than 'San'. At least Quinn knows Spanish, and does say it in a passable accent.

"Nothing!" Santana cheered, proud. "I want to get an apartment of my own."

Though Quinn didn't quite follow, her amusement was more prevalent than her intrigue, "In New York City? Are you serious?!" The young mother gave her a glare that she ignored before the family walked off and left her effectively alone.

"Er, yeah. And I don't, actually, want any of your money," Santana hesitated. Quinn hadn't even thought of that, actually now fairly certain that Santana had free access to a lot more money than herself, "I've found a nice place, Upper East Side of Manhattan, and it's a rental plan. However,"

Quinn had been dutifully listening but now added, "I guess this is where I come in?"

"Yeah," Santana confirmed, sliding her free hand in and out of her jeans pocket, "you know the NYC population housing restrictions? No. Well, because there's not like, loads of space, the government or whatever puts restrictions in certain areas so, like, if a single is suitable for two people, landlords can't rent it to one. So, you need to be a couple. A lot of the landlords, duh, are skeezy and don't care so much so longs as they get paid and get no trouble, but the one I like. It's, well it's only as cheap as it is cos this guy is pretty strict on the rule. He even only takes married couples, because he can't trust that anyone else won't break up and then not live together."

"Now why me?" Quinn absorbed all the information, actually pleased she's the first to hear about Santana wanting to strike out on her own and so really growing wings but planting roots of her own, finally, and proud that she'd worked this hard in that regard, but - besides being the first choice friend to tell, though Santana has plenty of closer friends in the city - not still a little confused with the her part of Santana's plan.

"Well, it's not like I could really ask anyone else," Santana started, in comfortable and do confident ground, "First, we have to cross through all the gay guys and straight girls I know, and it's kind of abysmal just how many straight guys and lezzos I'm close to," though Quinn tried to interrupt here with a defence of her sexuality, Santana kept going, "then we can role most of those out straight away because it'd be weird or awkward, and then I got to thinks about who isn't going to get into a serious relationship for the duration of me wanting to live there, and you said yourself, you're too young to even start looking."

Quinn was kind of in shock. That was well thought through, and completely unromantic, which for some reason massively disappointed her.

"And, you know, if I have to say I'm married to someone, you're not half bad." but hearing that brought a smile to her face, because it is probably the sweetest and most romantic Santana has been since she was dating Brittany.

Still, Quinn was a serious relationship kind of girl, and even if the marriage (even thinking the word was heavy) was just for practical purposes, it would still be real. It'd be a black mark for any future relationships, and though recently she'd mostly been dabbling in the world of sapphic romance, she could pretty much kiss goodbye to ever dating a decent and non-pervy guy again. She was the marriage forever person, or at least the go-into-a-marriage-thinking-forever person that was bred into her, despite forgetting much of that breeding. It's part of her idea of romance.

"I don't know, Santa. Try and romance me." She eventually settled on replying. She wouldn't have given an answer after that, anyway. Santana smiled as she left the little cubicle, having thoroughly washed her hands during Quinn's little self debating.

"Six months until the lease comes up." Santana cheerily signed off. "Hasta, Quinnie."

"Adiós, Santa."

Quinn was about to hang up, walking back to the trail, when she heard a 'te amo' in her ears, followed by the dial tone signaling that the call had been ended for her.


	2. II:The Acceptance (Or, Jackass the WASP)

**oh wow! I am loving the feedback from this story and all the reviews and followers and favorites and everything!**

"Excuse me? You can't be in here, this is a closed rehearsal." Professor Jackman, who insisted on overseeing every practice of his Understanding Performance groups (and so severely reducing the amount of time they actually had to rehearse) sneered at the visitor almost the second the door creaked upon touch. The perpetrator wasn't even in the room before being told to leave, and Quinn always thought that even if not rude this was horrible practice: what if it was an emergency?

"Sorry about that," Santana replied, tone of voice and facial expression showing otherwise, "I just came by to pick up my fiancée, shouldn't you be finished."

Yes, yes they should have finished rehearsal already. About five minutes ago, in fact, which would usually have left only Quinn in this room by now. But, no. Jackass (as the tutor is so lovingly called by much of Yale's studenture and faculty) decided to try one of the scenes in a different artistic direction, which was code for he's going to fail whichever playwriting student submitted it. Santana knew this because ever since half of the glee club relocated to the East Coast, even Quinn's been included on Rachel Berry's groupshare calendar timetable.

"Your fiancée? I think you're mistaken, this is an undergrad class." Jackass waved Santana out before flipping his script (nnotes abound) and calling for a restart.

"Quinn?" Santana asked, rather too loudly, instead of taking his hint. The woman in question had been trying to make herself invisible by their prop table since she recognised her classroom infiltrator as the girl who had semi-proposed to her not even a week ago. She now turned bright red to match the cloak hanger that would never have masked her frame beside her, with some of the rest of the group whistling and mostly cooing at how sweet it was.

"I'm not your fiancée, Santa." she gritted out, even so moving away from the wall and collecting her bag and coat from the pile beside the door. "Why are you here?"

"I'm taking you out, Fabray. Didn't think anyone would be here. Borrowed Berry's railcard, too, hope you don't mind." Santana replied as if it were a normal occurrence. Quinn was just honestly shocked.

"Can I go, sir?" She asked, ever polite. She would have expanded, but both knew that she wasn't in the scene they'd be running for the rest of the time, and she was a quick enough study to not need be caught up on the notes and alterations, even though she's so dedicated she would anyway.

"Just this once, Quinn, because it's an outstanding situation. I didn't know you had a girlfriend." Jackass smiled in a way Quinn never enjoyed seeing. He was very much high class WASP, and she knew he thought the same of her, treating her in the strange favors for the enemy way and harboring blind fondness like all the people she'd ever met at a country club had. Thank god her classmates know different and are sympathetic enough to support her accepting his disturbing favoritism just so she can survive their course easier.

Quinn considers telling them that she doesn't have a girlfriend, but sees no point and just smiles tightly, leaving with Santana. Once out of the drama studio building, however, she turns to her old friend.

"I can't believe you did that, Santa!"

"Really, cos it's definitely something I'd do." she grins in response, folding her arms.

"Actually, you're right. I can definitely believe it's something you would do, I just wish you hadn't!"

"Why? Got you out of there, didn't it. Nothing else would've worked." Santana shrugged, continuing in the direction they'd headed out having visited enough times to know how to get to the Walmart with a café from where they were.

"Thanks, but you don't know. Jackass or someone in class is gonna tell Professor Freedman, and Freedo's been trying for weeks to work out who to cast as this lesbian in the main showcase performance without offending anyone. He was just about prepared to give it to gay David but now you've come and run your mouth and I'll bet your sweet ass that Freedman asks me to play her because I'm the only semi-out semi-gay girl in the showcase, and thanks to you I'm pretty much going to be the lead player for the year. But they'll also think I'm gay!"

Quinn ranted all the way to the edge of campus before Santana took her hand and led her into New Haven. "How about, we stay silent until we get there, and then just talk as we eat?"

Quinn turned to her companion at the contact, and did a real double take at her words. "Wait, you're actually taking me out?" she asked in surprise and with cautious glee.

"Duh. Put those Yale brains to use, what else do you think I'd be here for?"

The circular bus journey was spent in relative silence, Santana occasionally muttering curses at drivers and Quinn talking notes on various civilians, people-watching as independent work for her Creating a Character class. Upon this realisation, Santana remarked "what a nerd", but at least smiled sweetly.

The café in Walmart had two edible options that Quinn would actually consider eatable: the mushroom omelette, and the jalapeño mushroom omelette. They took one of each and, Santana announcing that the Connecticut water tasted of sewage, two white coffees.

"Wow, what a romantic dinner. Thanks, Santana."

"Hey, you pour out all the sarcasm, but I'm actually being really thoughtful. Would you like to be seen in a fancy restaurant near your university with me? Yeah, thoughtful." Santana replied with just enough force but otherwise whilst causally adding sugar to her coffee.

Quinn took a cautious sip of her own before grinning and responding "I knew you didn't take coffee 'as black and bitter as your soul'. As light and sweet as your soul, maybe." and then laughing. Santana faked grump before smirking back.

"You got me, Q. I'm a secret sweetheart. No, but coffee usually tastes like gravel until it's cold, but I've been needing the caffeine lately at introvenal levels, had to make it tolerable somehow."

Deeming her drink acceptable, Santana offered the remaining pack of sugar to Quinn (who denied) before throwing it back into the condiment tray. Being a few tables away, and needing an aim through a guy's bent arm, Santana was understandably proud. What made her even more proud was how her dining companion cheered for her, even when the wait staff glared. Taking this opportunity of peace, Santana decided to bring up her living predicament again.

"Have you thought about what I asked you, Q? Cos I really need it, like a place to live. And obviously you're my first choice. Please can you do it for me? I'll owe you a million." She'd only meant to ask the first question, but leaned forward and kept rambling upon Quinn's initial short silence.

"Fine." Quinn replied, actually jovially and calmly. It took a moment before she really considered what that answer meant, outside of this moment of Santana's reasonable pleading. Taking a step back, she would be married. To Santana, and everything that came with that idea of 'Santana'. That, that put together with her idea of 'marriage'. Even if for a favour, for who is now definitely her best friend, if and when they separate (an annulment rather than a divorce, obviously), it's still something she'd have to tell literally everyone in her life. But, then again, being proposed to by Santana is probably something that she will, at some point, share with everyone in her life - and definitely with all future partners. So why not let it have more weight, should those situations arise. And if they stay together? Well, Quinn's certain she's got a lot of growing to do. There's a lot worse people to have with you.

"Fine?" Santana also finally responds, having previously been opening and closing her mouth like a fish as what she could say changed - no more asking after Quinn's positive response, but then no suitable remark once all the implications dawned on her, too. Mostly how she could thank Quinn. She was her ticket to staying on the East Coast, not going back to Ohio in shame. She was her best friend and stuff like this meant a lot to her, and only in the past few years had they really built that bond. Plus there's other benefits that marriage could reap Santana, she knew. Quinn may know, too, but the advantages aren't so great in college. Right now, Quinn was her everything... She had to make sure she meant it.

Playing with the lid of the coffee cup, Quinn looked right into Santana's eyes. If she wants to, she can take it back later, or claim the marriage was a young mistake. But it can't be, she thinks, because Santana's her best friend.

"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you." She replied, looking up and into Santana's eyes. Then she thought, "But I get to pick the kitchen color scheme."

Santana leant back, relaxed, and laughed. "Of course, yes of course you can. Oh my god, Quinn, thank you!" And she jumped up on the last sentence, pulling her best friend into an uncharacteristic hug. Still, it was returned. "Do you want the last of my omelette, Q?"


	3. III: New Haven (Or, Pirates and Wine)

"Hey, Q?" Santana started as they began to leave the store, "you need groceries?"

"Do I, what?" Quinn's step faltered as it stops. "Actually, yeah. I don't think I have my card with me, though." She turns as she says this, and starts to look in her bag. Quickly retrieving her purse, Santana places her hands around both it and Quinn's to stop her.

"Doesn't matter. I'm paying." Santana smirks proudly and begins to march into the store.

"Santana! Wait!" Quinn calls, stuffing her purse back in her bag and closing it before chasing after her now-fiancée. "Come on, hold up!" she whisper shouts as Santana stops and turns around.

"We probably need a cart, huh." the Latina murmurs, causing Quinn to huff, turn on her heel and growl as she exits the store to the carts, leaving Santana to trail in her fumes now.

It's half an hour later and they're still trapped in Walmart, Santana now trying to convince Quinn that she really needs a Connecticut pirate costume.

"Santana, I don't even think there's a Connecticut pirate, someone just probably wrote the State's name on a costume to try sell it to tourists. Congratulations, you're falling into their trap." She'd try to walk away, but one of Santana's hands has the cart, the other arm linked with one of her own.

"Hey, don't you need a cheesy costume for all those frat parties I know you go to? C'mon, babe, I'm honestly trying to treat you. Pick something out!" Santana sighs, moving onto the other costumes. Well, once she'd passed the 'Frozen' dresses. That film is both old and out of season, Walmart!

"You want to treat me?" Quinn asks, stunned enough to have to be dragged along as Santana moves. That is until she stops, right by the Lego.

"Yeah, I'm buying you groceries as like a massive thank you because I shouldn't really need to marry you, but I'm sort of in that position and you said yes, and that means the world to me. Like, not just cos I need it and you're a life saver, but cos it's you, you know? Like, you're you. I'm not massively eloquent, but do you get that?" Santana paused a moment, enough for a quick nod and murmured 'I think so' from Quinn, "Yeah, but like, it's only fair that I get at least your groceries, so I wanna get you like a present as a personal thank you and as, like. I know I didn't really do the proposal thing well, so as a bit of a substitute for that." Santana looked down and, though touched, Quinn broke into a grin and started chuckling. "Alright, yeah, I'm kinda sappy. Shut up, Fabray." Santana hissed without malice.

"No, no!" Quinn collected herself and began to respond, wrapping Santana in a hug, "It's not that, gosh no! I think you're incredibly sweet. But, you wanted to treat me, to a pirate costume?" Santana also started laughing now, returning Quinn's hug tightly.

"Guess you're right, but I thought it was like fun and practical, maybe, and you know we're in a Walmart, Q, right?" They pull back from each other and Quinn smirks.

"You know what they have in a Walmart, Santa? Wine. They have lots of wine." Wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, she gets Santana to laugh and start pushing the cart to the far end of the store with the alcohol.

"You do know we're twenty, right, Q?" Santana asks as Quinn begins to pick out a couple of bottles.

"Well, I think it's just convenient that Emily Stark has managed to leave her license in my purse. Again." Quinn winks as she places the bottles down by her whole grain loaf.

It was only when trying to carry three bags of groceries up to the fourth floor of Quinn's residential block all at once did Santana regret her chivalrous offer to do just so. At least Quinn held the doors open for her.

"So, where's this kitchen of yours, Q? You know, you've never made me food here before." Santana asked, dumping the bags on Quinn's bed. After Quinn retrieved the bottles of wine and stashed the Ben and Jerry's in her mini fridge, she turned back to Santana.

"That's because Berkeley has a kick-ass meal plan and you always steal my food, Santa. It's down the hall." Whilst leading Santana to the kitchen, they bumped into several of Quinn's dorm mates. Though most assumed Santana was another student whenever they saw her around the university so naturally, several had spoken to her, and Quinn's other visitors. Reaching the kitchen, Quinn began to make a sandwich from what was left of her supplies and left Santana to unpack the new groceries. James, sharing Quinn's math requirement course, was eating a PBJ and watching a Vikings game on his computer as the Latina tried to dance around him to reach the board with a marker tacked to it.

"Oh, hey Santana." James smiled around his mouthful. "Oh, what do you need?" he asked, getting up to help her when he realised he was in her way.

"Just the marker, J. Thanks." she stepped backwards as his chair moved out and smiled as he handed her the pen. James kept watching as she labeled everything with Quinn's name.

"Aw, you're doing her bitch work. You guys are so cute!" he called as Santana best worked out how to label a pack of apples, and then she scowled at him. "Aw, Santana. Deny it all you like, we all think that the pair of you would make a really nice couple." it was at this point that Quinn passed the sandwich she had been making over to Santana, "Look!" James dramatically gestured at the action.

"As your friends, Quinn, we all agree that you need to start dating Santana. Before you, like, make her explode from the friendzone. And as someone who has met you, Santana, ditto." James added in a fake 'sincere' voice as another of their math course mates entered and then the pair left, leaving Santana and Quinn alone.

"Thank you for the sandwich, dear. You know, I hear we make a cute couple." Santana smirked around her mouthful.

"Shut up, Santana. It's leftover cold cuts I didn't want to eat." Quinn responded whilst washing the knife, a smile on her face that she hid by continuing to glare at the scratch on the bottom of the sink.

"Mmmm, well you should, because this is delicious." Santana knew that Quinn would be smiling, and replied in a certainly non provocative way. Well, you know, if you were five.

It was only after Quinn had poured their first glasses of wine that Santana suddenly thought about shopping again.

"Quinnie, are there any fancy dress shops around here?" she asked saccharine, aware that Quinn would not want to leave her room now settled.

"I told you, Santa, I don't want or need a pirate costume." she said, taking her seat on her bed.

"Yet." Santana added as if knowingly, tipping her glass to Quinn as she sat, "but I meant like ballgown type dresses, but not quite that expensive. We've ask been told it's black tie for Jesse's new show." she explained, leaning against Quinn's shoulder.

"Ugh, why are we going? Why were we even invited? Just because he had a weird teacher crush and transferred it onto Rachel then became obsessed doesn't really make him part of our little glee family. What's the show?" Quinn asked, initially ranting to her Michelle Pfeiffer poster ("I'm not gay, but if she's not hot you're blind."), but turning to Santana to ask the last question.

"Hamilton? Yeah, and you like history, it'll be fun. Plus, free show." Santana reasoned, having removed her head from Quinn's shoulder and now leaning it against the adjacent wall.

"Yeah, but because you've got half of McKinley coming down, Rachel so kindly got Kurt to be the bearer of bad news and tell me the 'unlimited invitation' to your loft that I'd been extended was void that week." she paused as she smirked back at Santana, "He then clarified that I'd probably have to find a hotel if I wanted to stay because the gleeks are in the loft because they already had to get plane tickets." both were grinning at the awful roommate antics

"Hey, I've been kicked out, too, Q. Apparently Rachel doesn't want me cluttering up the place when Mr Schue's there. But she did convince Shelby to offer me a place on her couch." Santana looked thoughtful then brushed her hand down, "Eh, I'll just get a hotel room with you. Can you imagine a five year old waking me up at the ass crack of dawn when I've been out? I don't wanna murder your kid." Quinn frowned at her.

"First, she's four. Second," here Quinn leant forward to place her glass down and waited for Santana to follow suit, grabbing a cushion to pelt her fiancée with as the other woman sat back up.

"I know you don't want to start a pillow fight." Santana said, even from her position slumped between the bed and wall.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you just wanted an excuse to get me on my back." Santana smirked, and while Quinn tried to form a retort, grabbed a cushion and flung it at her. Clearly, Quinn hadn't wanted to start a pillow fight, because it soon devolved into a tickle fight, and that calmed down to the pair cuddling on Quinn's bed. "Thanks for saying yes." A sleepy Santana admitted, cradled against Quinn.

"Stop thanking me or I'll take it back." Quinn muttered against Santana's cheek before giving the lightly napping girl a gentle kiss to the nose.

"No you wouldn't." the quiet assertion shocked Quinn, who thought Santana was asleep or nearly there, but the soft peck to her lips didn't. "Night, Q."


	4. IV:The Reveal Part I (Or, Video Dresses)

It's been a week since Quinn accepted Santana's proposal, and they have communicated in some way every day since. The first day they said goodbye as Santana took a train back to New York, Quinn going so far as to hug her on the platform.

The second day it was a picture text from Santana of a dress she thought she could wear to Jesse's musical, that first asked Quinn's opinion. It was short on either end, so Quinn said it was probably good. The third day was Santana then adding that, in case the message wasn't clear, Quinn needed to find something that matched because she was going to be Santana's date. The fourth day was a phone call, from Quinn to Santana, just to catch up and also because she swears she had more nail top coat before Santana visited. Santana and her new manicure denied any implied accusations, but said she'd get Quinn a new bottle, any way. The fifth day was a bottle of nail varnish top coat arriving at Quinn's mail room with a little handwritten note saying "this is what you have to look forward to", the counter side, Quinn later noticed, adding "no, really, baby. I'll be awesome for you. Santa x". This prompted a short text saying "thanks" from Quinn, to be reiterated ten minutes later with "really. thank you a lot santa xx".

The sixth day was a Skype presentation of the dress Quinn had selected, Santana calling out that her fiancée was the hottest piece in New England with not only Rachel but also Kurt and Blaine present alerting their friends.

"Santana, what? Aren't you on the phone to Quinn?" Kurt yelled as he moved out of the kitchen to the living area where Santana was sitting, followed by his husband and Rachel.

"No, I said Quinn was calling, and by that I meant Skype." She slowly corrects, not unkindly, waving her phone in his face.

"Hey!" Quinn shouts at the jarring image from her bedroom. Blaine and Rachel have taken seats on the love seat, Kurt still stood behind the coach that Santana is perched sideways on.

"So, we've established you're talking to Quinn," Kurt begins, moving to join Santana on the coach and continue the discussion with Rachel and Blaine listening in, enraptured, "but what was that about a fiancée?" He prompts, legs tucked up and face split, waiting for whatever story Santana's about to sell him, ideally full of gossip.

"Oh, that's easy. I proposed to Quinn and she said yes." Santana explains, turning her phone away at Quinn's protestations. Two pairs of well-groomed, and one pair of bushy, eyebrows rise at this, and Kurt snatches the phone from Santana.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray! How dare you not come out to me first! I thought I was your GBF, and that gives me dibs on all kind of gossip, but most especially gay gossip!" He shouts at her, scandalised, through Santana's phone right at the moment two of her friends walk into the common room. They're behind her, of course, and so Kurt notices their entrance - and the look of shock on their faces - before Quinn. "Oops. I'm so sorry, Quinn, please don't unleash Santana on me." He then says, pleads, completely genuinely.

"What have you done, Hummel?" Santana calls, launching out of her crouched position on the couch by the power of her toes and abs at the mention of her wrath, effortlessly stepping over to where Kurt is and retrieving her phone, now settling it on the coffee table to that their three friends can also see Quinn. By the time she's done so, Quinn is turned and talking to the girls, Santana catching Quinn's very simple explanation that she's going to marry a woman and so her friend thinks she's gay, before the two leave.

"Um, Quinn. Santana." Is all Blaine manages to say, both the girls laughing a bit before Rachel takes a turn.

"So I'm the only straight person in this room?" Is what she chooses to say. Santana rolls her eyes, Quinn's face moving to amusement.

"You already were, Rachel. Quinn's not in the room." Santana smirks.

"Fine. Only straight person, in this conversation," Rachel clarifies, "I just kind of want to have some straight friends, guys." She pouts, crossing her arms and trying to flop backwards unsuccessfully.

"I'm not a lesbian, Rachel." Quinn calls, unreasonably and inadvertently compensating for Rachel moving a little further away by too much and practically shouting, attracting the attention of others in the area. "I'm straight."

"For now." Santana chuckles, joking, as she gets up to go to the kitchen. When she gets a direct look from Quinn, she adds, "Be right back, babe."

Kurt takes the opportunity to snatch up the phone and move closer to Rachel and Blaine, the three huddling in to get a really good look.

"So, what? Santana just asked you to marry her and you decided to say yes? What happened, Lucy Caboosey, I want deets!" Kurt shrilled excitedly, bouncing in place.

"That's no way to get me to answer you, Hummel." Quinn said, "But, in simple terms, yes. Santana's found an apartment she wants to rent, but needs to be married because of some New York regulation and a strict landlord. Though I take marriage very seriously, Santana's important to me, and there's other reasons I said yes that I can't remember right now, but they must be great." She smiled, then muttered out "They better be great" to herself when the three turned to each other to discuss.

"I think it's cute." Blaine announced, apparently having conferred. "I also cannot wait to see Sue Sylvester's face." He grinned, then asked "Ooh, are you having a bachelorette party?" to Santana as she returned with three cans of cola and a bottle of water.

"I dunno, she only said yes last week." Santana shrugged, cracking her can open after distributing the other drinks.

"Wait, only said yes?" Rachel asked, placing her water down, "So that means that you proposed earlier, and waited. Awwwww." Santana had to glare and then point her finger at Rachel to get her to stop making the noise.

"Yeah, taking me out for dinner at WalMart was the final nail in the coffin." Quinn called drily to the New York gang. "Now, you can ask me all sorts of questions later, and I'm sure you'll torture Santa." Here Quinn paused in her sign-off, "I don't mind." She smirked to her fiancée on screen, "but I need to go. See you tomorrow." She waved awkwardly, trying to blindly navigate closing the call.

The seventh day after her acceptance is when she takes the train down to New York, welcomed by the gang already assembled, being pulled into embraces by many before she settles on Artie's lap to be wheeled out of the station as a joke, with this making her realise - halfway up the ramp out of Grand Central - that she has yet to greet Santana. She hurriedly hops off of Artie, and skips over to Santana, pausing before giving her a cordial hug. After she pulls back, Santana smiles at her and then grabs her around the neck and ass into a much closer hug that Quinn mirrors and returns. Rachel coos, but the pair just look at her - not even glare - into being quiet and picking up Quinn's bag to carry out again without fuss.


	5. V:The Reveal Part II (Or, What a Family)

**Ooh, I'm back. Because I had this chapter and then, like, lost it. Which you'll all agree is great for morale when writing a story /sarcasm. But that's no excuse, and thank you all for the lovely reviews!**

"So this is a musical based on a biography of Alexander Hamilton? Is it going to be like Les Miz?" Santana asks, to the air but most definitely in Rachel's general direction, as they leave the loft for the limo. They were on their way to the pre-party, apparently an event to challenge even Puck's drinking capacities. Puck said he would rise to the challenge, though they had all tried to persuade him otherwise because 'it's fancy'.

"No, Santana, you do know that Les Miz is based on a work of fiction?" Rachel rolled her eyes, trying to peer around Quinn - dutifully but wilfully attached to Santana's arm and so separating the two - to respond.

"Yes, _Berry_ , but it is also based on the French revolution. And this is a fictional adaptation, anyway, it's going to embellish and stuff. I _meant_ is it going to have all the little historical details in it that somebody's going to need to explain to me." Santana responded in kind, causing the troupe to halt midway down the staircase.

"Yeah. No-one patronises my wifey." Quinn concludes, mock-sternly - but Rachel still quivers, now below them and looking up.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I- Well, I don't know, I haven't seen it yet. Perhaps Jesse or someone else in the cast can answer you at the get-together." Rachel replies before turning back to continue down the stairs.

"Hey, hey" Quinn calls, chasing her down and pulling Santana with her, too, "We weren't trying to be mean or intimidate you, Rachel-" she confirms, though Santana does interrupt with a _'but you didn't have to talk down to me'_ , "It just seems like some misunderstandings."

"Did Quinn call Santana her 'wifey'?!" Tina calls from the back of the group, going unanswered as Quinn side-hugs Rachel in comfort and then leads the former glee gang outside. A muffled _'wait, I didn't tell you?'_ is heard from Blaine as they enter the limo.

* * *

Arriving at a hotel reception room just off Times Square, the gang splits up to socialise. The first out is Quinn, looking for Shelby who had promised to be there and to bring Beth along, too.

"Sup, babymama. Looking for someone?" Puck sneaks up on her as she completely conspicuously tries to scout the entire room from the dance floor (that is not in use, because _fancy_ ). She's not in the middle, but it's not as if she's close to hugging the walls, either. She is far enough away from one of the high-tables that have been set up and are adorning the dance floor at random intervals, though, for Puck to circle her as she turns to see him.

"Yes, actually, the baby you just mentioned." Quinn says, staring him down, "So if you could just let me look-"

"Yeah, sure, I'll help you find our little girl. But, you know, just in case you wanted another any time soon, the Puckasaurus is always free for you." he grins, stepping out of her eyeline to get uncomfortably close right next to her.

"Noah, you're 21, you're a respected adult. Why do you still call yourself that?" Quinn huffs, praying for Santana to return with her drink sometime soon. It's not like Puck's a sleaze, it's not like she doesn't like him, she just wishes that he wouldn't come on to her every single time they reunite. Sure, he gets over it after an hour or so, but it just sours meeting up with her friends some.

"Come on, all grown men use informal names for their downstairs. And my downstairs would love to get informal with you." He winks, bringing his beer up to his mouth to take a (surprisingly short) swig.

"Yo, Puckerman, I hope you'res not being rude to my girl." Santana calls, far too loudly for how close she is to the pair, having approached unseen despite being directly in front of them. Placing two glasses down on the table behind her, she spins back to look at them. Puck's grinning.

"Looking hot as ever, Lopez. You know, I didn't know you two were friends now." he steps a little away from Quinn, to be more central between the girls.

"Then you're not paying attention, Puckerman." Santana says, genuinely and calmly, before stepping up to Quinn and wrapping her arms around her waist. She leans to whisper in Quinn's ear, but tilts her head in Puck's direction to make sure he hears, "What say we go find the ladies' and have some fun where we don't have to think about anybody's 'Puckasaurus'." Santana smirks at her own tactics before kissing in the crook of Quinn's neck. Sure, she got a mouthful of perfume, but when she turns to kiss Quinn's lips it's immediately replaced with lipgloss that's much sweeter. In only a second, Puck has laughed bitterly and left them, both girls reaching for their champagne.

"Geez, Santa, way to scare him off. We don't actually hate him, you know." Santana laughed along, though she did feel a bit of hatred for the boy. It was hiding in another emotion that she only thought could be jealousy. She just knows then when she saw Puck leaning into Quinn, she didn't like it - and not because he could be a douche to Quinn, but because she didn't want him or anyone else sharing that space with _her fiancee._ She felt jealous, she totally did, and like she needed to stake a claim. And she doesn't know why.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, look at that!" Santana deflects. _Skills on point_. So she totally eye-stalked Puck as he made his retreat and chose to saunter up to Shelby, whatever.

"What, where?" Quinn places her glass down and returns to Santana's side. They're by one of the tables now, and are preparing to be the gossip queens.

"I found Shelby - behind that gold balloon tower, see, with Jesse." Santana points them out, Quinn batting her arm down to make their spying at least a little less obvious.

As Jesse walks away from Shelby to obviously flirt with Rachel, Quinn begins the comments, "Ugh. Don't you think it's a little weird, you know. Jesse's all up on his little Berry pie when he totally had the hots for Shelby. The only reason he did her bidding is because of his weird teacher crush, but then he met her daughter of all people. At least she's age-appropriate."

"Honestly, I'm surprised he hasn't tried it with Mr Shue, yet." Santana laughed, grabbing an entire pot of mini tortilla chips from a passing server to snack on.

"Really? I'm not getting any gay vibes from him. On the surface, of course you'd think he might be gay, but I just can't see it." Quinn shrugs, stealing some of the chips from Santana.

"That's called a gaydar, Q, congratulations, honey." Santana giggles, having another drink. "But seriously, didn't Shelby actually date Shue? This chain of glee-cest is weird."

"Wait. No, what's weirder - like, so Shelby's Rachel's mom. And Jesse liking them both - weird -" Quinn's suddenly had a brainwave, abandoning her drink mid-arm raise before lowering it and turning to Santana with haste.

"Yup, just said that, Q. Man, you're not losing it again, are you?" Santana jokes, earning a gentle slap.

"No! I mean, so if Shelby is Rachel's mom, and Shelby's also Beth's mom, does that make Rachel and Beth sisters?" Quinn's almost slapping at Santana with the excitement at this somehow new and profound revelation, "And what does that make _me_ to Rachel?" Quinn squeaks out as a continuation of the thought, but suddenly a lot less subdued.

Santana begins to laugh, catching on, "Haha, that totally doesn't make you Rachel's mom, Q-ball. But you should totally get some authority over her."

"Yeah. And look - Puck" Quinn just now noticing, "he was after both Rachel and Shelby, too."

Santana grinned, "And you, too, Q. God, what a messed up family. Poor Beth." She took the step to bring her up to being practically squashed against Quinn, who chuckled.

"I know. Who'd wanna be in it?" Quinn said, still with humour, and took another glug of champagne. Santana's eyes caught a twinkle and she leaned in,

"Well I will." She breathed against Quinn's ear, almost causing the blonde to choke on her mouthful.

* * *

 **So, yeah. I also feel like I need to inform you that the bit where they look over at Shelby and have that weird discussion, yeah, I was so damn proud of the original version of that. Like, I wrote the rest of this chapter around it, but as I said, _I lost it_. So, I checked my notes in the hope that I'd just, like, pasted the whole thing there because I was so good. Well, I kinda hate myself for not typing out the whole conversation and taking better notes because this is what I had for that part:** 'looking at Shelby and discussing glee incest until san flirtatiously says "oh I will/and you better not forget it"' **Yup. Well done, stupid past me. (Obviously it's a bit of a summary, a little note to remind me or help jog the memory - but honestly, I've been on a European and a US road trip since then; I'm here beating myself up because of course I knew what it meant even when I was checking the notes only a couple months ago, not so much right now. I'm pretty sure it's** **spotting Shelby with Jesse or Puck and working down a chain of glee relationships until Quinn says something that warrants a suggestive comment. I'm probably not going to be happy with this chapter. I'm so sorry. Right now I'm thinking unless I can get _that_ dialogue perfect, I'm not going to try so I'll let the conversation be slightly different; I may edit it, and I hope you can enjoy it D: ) I'm also sorry for the whining. I hope you like the alternative, and more chapters soon (especially since I might not be so neurotic over getting them perfect. Maybe.)**


	6. VI: The Reveal Part III (Or, The 3 Bs)

Once the show was over, Quinn was immediately jumped upon by a beautiful blonde toddler.

"Kin, Kin." Beth called, clutching at her biological mother. Though Beth clearly remembered her and was delighted to see her, Quinn limited the time she spent with her daughter. It was selfish, really, because the girl adored their time together and Quinn should be able to give her that - instead hiding away to limit how often she'd feel that little sting in her heart that lasted always a few days after every visit.

"Hello there, baby." Quinn replied. Shelby had said that Santana and Quinn were both free to stay at her apartment, as long as they provided childcare for the period. Holding the tall four-year-old up, Quinn was happy to do the service - Santana immediately stepped in with her own arms outstretched to help hold Beth up, and it suddenly reconciled in Quinn's mind that maybe, just maybe, if Santana would be there to hold her in the coming days, leaving her daughter yet again might not hurt so much.

"Good evening ladies. I hope you're not getting Beth too excited, we're all going straight to bed when we get home." Shelby smiled, approaching the trio and pulling small mittens out of her purse as she did. "Come on, Beth, you don't want to break Quinn's arms, do you?"

Beth released herself to stand between her mothers, peering up from two feet high, "But mommy, I missed her. Why don't I get to see Kin and Auntie S-tana and Rachie and Kurt all the time?" The little girl pouted.

"It's grown-up reasons, Beth, I can't tell you." Shelby sighed, kneeling down to outfit the girl in her woolies.

"Can I ride on your shoulders?" Beth distractedly tugged at Quinn's long coat with the hand that Shelby had just released. Quinn smiled down at the little girl and looked to Shelby for confirmation, the older woman smiling sadly at her before beaming and nodding. Of course she could, Quinn needing to ask regarding her daughter also made Shelby feel bad, she wanted Quinn to be enough in Beth's life that she would be like a parent naturally - she wanted it for Quinn and Beth.

With Beth asleep, after requiring some dramatic recounting of glee club stories and a promise that the adults were going to bed right now, too, Shelby turned MTV on low and made some coffee to chat with her guests. Santana and Quinn had been bustling about organising themselves when Shelby had turned away, and by the time she returned with the coffee they had clearly finished - to Shelby's surprise they were instead situated at one end of a sofa, but Quinn sprawled mostly on top of Santana. Sure they were both sat on the sofa, but Quinn was positioned at such an angle that she had her legs diagonally over Santana's but also could tuck her head into Santana's neck if she wanted. Presently, though, they were looking directly into each others' eyes whilst continuing the conversation.

"Care to tell me about this?" Shelby grinned like the cat that got the cream as she placed the mugs on her coffee table and sat in the armchair to the left of the sofa. Quinn, who had to rotate her head 180 to see her, began to blush and so turned back into Santana's neck, the Latina now supporting her with arms looped around Quinn's waist.

"Um, yeah." Santana began, "We're, uh, engaged, I guess." (Quinn scoffing _you guess?_ and gently hitting her ribs) "I mean, I proposed a couple weeks ago, and Q said yes, so. Yeah." When Santana was done stammering, Quinn turned back around to face Shelby, who was smiling with eyes alight.

"Aw, come here girls. I feel like a proud mama." Instead, Shelby got up herself to awkwardly hug the two and join their little pile before retreating to the adjoined kitchen again. "Of course, not your mother. I'd say I'm too young for that, but we all know that's a lie. And I have-" she reappeared in the lounge area "some cake. Congratulations. Aren't you two cute, have you thought about a date yet?" She finished, handing a paper plate with a couple slices of chocolate cake wrapped in saran to Quinn.

"Well-" began Santana, as Quinn said _'not yet'_ , surprising the blonde who turned from Shelby to express the shock. "Yeah, Q-tip, I've had a couple thoughts. That's all. I was gonna say we could do it in New York, since I know for a fact it's actually legal here." Quinn laughed at the guilty look that had appeared on her fiancee's face.

"Oh, Santa, I thought you were going to say you'd booked it all without telling me." another burst of mirth escapes in one of Quinn's rhythmic but raucous laughs, "I'd have been after your hide, then. Oh, don't worry, it's fine that you've been thinking about it, I'm not desperate to know everything running through your mind." She finished slowly, in her high-pitched lilt, one sign that she was genuine - of course, there was no inflection in it that gave a hint at being more than just friends. Shelby, having known both girls at their most hormone-addled ages, picked up on this but didn't comment.

"So I guess you're just telling everyone for the time being, that's great." She smiled, picking up her drink, "Oh, shall we change the channel?", nodding to the control as '16 & Pregnant' came on, causing both girls to laugh.

"No, please, I love to annoy Rachel with this. It's like an in-joke. It's fine, we're talking any way." Santana added, leaning into Quinn as the taller girl's arms wrapped around her neck. They didn't spend long talking, of course, Shelby wanting to get enough sleep before being woken by a toddler terror, and warning the other women to do the same, leaving them to sleep on the sofa and a pull-out camp bed she retrieved from the ironing closet. And Shelby did find it odd when it was revealed to her in the morning that they had slept separately.

* * *

Quinn's train wasn't until the next day, and so she was there with the New York gang saying goodbye to everyone else (with Beth in tow, Shelby swearing off all duties and handing the child over to her until she left).

"Goodbye, Will." Beth said, attempting to high-five the glee club director from where she was being carried by Quinn, snuggled into the woman's chest.

"Goodbye, Beth. And say goodbye to your mommy for me, too." He smiled, before looking up to Quinn, "And goodbye, Quinn. Feel free to come back to McKinley any time you like, everyone else certainly makes liberty of that. You know, there's this one new teacher, young math teacher, he's very handsome. He's from Georgia, I'm sure he'd like you." Quinn blushed, and tried to think of something to say.

Lucky for her, Santana stepped in before it was necessary, "You know, if he were a she, I think Quinn'd like to meet him, too. Guess it's too bad, sweetie pie." Santana turned to Quinn, upping the saccharine on the endearment that Quinn's eyebrow raised at, and pecking her on the cheek.

Quinn just smiled, noticing Will's shock and using the hand not holding her daughter up to press against Beth's ear, subsequently causing her other ear to be pressed against Quinn's sternum - she didn't really want Beth to hear this when she wasn't going to explain - "Yes, Mr Shue. I'm - I don't know, actu- but I am now engaged to Santa - Santana. Lopez." The named girl waved ( _'smoooooth, Q'_ ) and Will looked upset.

"Oh, well. That's news, girls. Congratulations. And on coming out, Quinn. That's news, too. Wow. I will have to let Mr Thomson down easy for you, then. That's amazing, you've got to promise to visit now! Gosh." Will walked away, grabbing his coat and still a little dumbfounded, though his mood and expression had clearly lifted after a second's consideration.

Santana whispered in Quinn's ear, the blonde now releasing Beth's head, "So, are we surprised at his surprise, or?", making Quinn chuckle a little as they waved goodbye to Will, now leaving for his platform.

* * *

"Who's ringtone is 'Bitch', Santa?" Quinn shouts to the girl showering in the loft.

Instead, Rachel answers, "Oh, that's Sue. Only bitch bigger than Santana.", as she walks behind Quinn with her French toast.

Quinn looks shocked at the statement and turns to her friend, "You grew balls, Berry. Care to tell me when?" She laughs, not wanting an answer, and then answers Santana's phone.

"LOPEZ!" is screamed down the line, Quinn answering that it's actually her, "Oh, well that makes sense, little miss blonde butt-ache picking up for the Latin curse. Honestly, what has gotten into my Cheerios - just the other day one of my new squad announced that she wanted to wear pants for the routine like an obese libertarian squealer, and I've already had to drop three different girls for chopping their delicious locks shorter than William's attention span on Mondays but now, _now_ , I hear word that Quinn Fabray has joined the ranks of the lady-loving cheer-ophiles who so rarely grace my team, _from somebody else!_ You can layout and handspring with whomever you choose, baby baker, but how dare you, _how dare you_ , my precious bottle-blonde protege, not tell me. I had to hear it as blind gossip in that god-forsaken stench pit of a staff room. Well I traced that rumour back to the source of one Mr William Schuester and now, _now_ , he let that news out into the wilds of McKinley and through a blasphemous game of Chinese whispers, most likely maliciously organised by this preppy junior I call Asian 4, there are students who are claiming that my whole squad is one sacrilegious orgy of sapphic sodomy!"

"Hi, coach. Yes, I am getting married to Santa. But probably in New York so I don't think anyone from Lima will be invited." Quinn sweetened her voice like she always did when responding to one of her cheerleading coach's rants whilst simultaneously ignoring it.

"Well that's where you're wrong, sweet cheeks, 'cause I am going to be in attendance. You two are still my best captains, I'm just a little offended that you hid your gayness. I mean, honestly, by your senior year I didn't even expect it was possible for any more of your homo-tastic grade to not have jumped out of that pink closet to yet another Lady Gaga or Katy Perry song. Can you believe all that happened, I blame the influence of William. But, seriously now, tubbers, you did ask to join that singing club of Jews and losers - but to think my Unholy Trinity is really one unholy trinity."

"Um, thanks coach. Got to go." Quinn responded as Rachel began to lean closer and Santana emerged from the bathroom in her towel. Quinn tossed the phone back onto the table and looked nervously over at Santana, wiping napkins taken from McDonald's in her ears to dry them. She smiled at Quinn when she saw her looking.

"How're you doing, babe?" She asked, heart warm. Quinn blushed as the corners of her mouth also branched up into a wide smile, reaching her eyes before they dropped to look at where Santana was now trying to use a corner of the towel to dry her hair, revealing a length of burnished mocha toned thigh as she did. Of course, Santana noticed this, smirking, "I know I'm a hot piece, Q, whenever you want some you just gotta ask." She winked, Rachel gasping and pretending to look scandalised from where she was trying her very best to act casual with a take-out menu she was re-reading.

"Oh, Sue says she's coming to our wedding, by the way." Quinn called as Santana went to get dressed.

 **Yeah, four year olds are very good with language, I know four year olds. However, most also struggle with a couple letter and syllable sounds for ages. My sister had problems with some combinations you wouldn't expect until she was, like, four** ** _teen._ I also really liked writing Sue in this chapter (duh).**


End file.
